


Nothing to Do With It

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the episode "The Prodigal Son."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to Do With It

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #13 under the pen name Angelica Cooper-Smith.

_"I'll ignore that."_

 

          Norton looked up from his monitor as Debi slid into the basement labs on sock-clad feet.  Immediately he remembered that he was supposed to have done something for her, but what?

          "Hi, Norton," she said, skating over to join him.

          "Hi, Deb," he said carefully, his mind racing to recall the necessary information.

          "Ready?"

 _Oh boy…_  "Ready?" he echoed, trying to keep his voice light.

          Debi's expression hardened.  "Norton," she chastised, "you promised you'd show me how to play the new video game you got from your detective friend."

 _Oh yeah!  Boz's new vid!_   He studied the girl's hopeful expression.  _This is not going to be pretty…_  "Uh, Deb, listen, I—"

          "Norton, you _promised!_ "

          "I know, but the colonel wanted me to run a check, and—"

          "Nobody _ever_ keeps their promises around here," she fumed.

          "I'll be done in a couple of hours, and we—"

          "Never mind," she pouted.  Turning on the fuzzy ball of one sock-covered foot, she skated away in a huff.

          "Great, just great," he muttered, turning back to the data Ironhorse had wanted – a complete analysis of all police, fire, and news reports from New York…  New York!  And he had to look for anything weird?  The entire city was weird!

          The elevator opened and Suzanne stepped out, flashing Norton a smile.  "What's up?" she asked.

          "I just narked Debi off," he admitted.  "I told her we'd give a new game a test-run, but I have to get this analysis done for the colonel or he'll use me for target practice."

          "Don't worry," she told him.  "She'll get over it.  She knows our work is more important than a video game."

          "Yeah, but not right now."

          Suzanne headed for her lab, saying, "Our work has to come first, Norton.  And speaking of which, you did finish the stats on my blood samples, right?"

          Norton's mind went blank.  _Blood samples?_   "Uh…"

          Suzanne back-peddled to the doorway.  "Norton, I need those stats before I can do anything else," she snapped.

          "Uh…"

          "Norton!"

          "Sorry, I was checking the game earlier to be sure I could run it for Deb, and then the Colonel— I'll get them printed off as soon as I finish with—"

          "Fine," Suzanne sighed heavily, stalking back toward the elevator.  "Fine.  I'll just go waste my time watching television," she muttered, disappearing up the stairs.

          "I've gotta start keeping lists," Norton concluded, returning back to the monitor.

          "Mr. Drake?"

          He glanced over his shoulder to find Mrs. Pennyworth standing behind him.  "Hi, Mrs. P, what can I do for you?"

          She hesitated a moment.

 _Oh, oh, what did I do_ now _?_

          "Mr. Drake," she began, "I know that you and the others are very busy doing very important work, but I'd appreciate it if you'd please be a little more careful with the laundry."

          His eyes widened slightly.  "Excuse me?"

          She fished into the pocket of her apron and pulled out an ink pen that looked like it was ground cover at Waterloo.  _Harrison's pen._

          "I found this in the pocket of your pink shirt," she explained patiently.  "I'm afraid the shirt is ruined, along with several other items."

          "I'm sorry," Norton sighed.  "Harrison and I—"

          "I understand you're busy, Mr. Drake, but it only takes a moment.  The blouse that my sister sent me from Paris was in that load… my favorite blouse."

          Norton looked appropriately repentant.  There was no use in belaboring the point.  He should have checked.  Harrison should've kept the blasted thing himself.

          "Well, I'll let you get back to work," Mrs. Pennyworth said, heading back to the elevator.  "Just try to be a little more careful in the future?"

          "Yes, ma'am, I will."  Norton watched her go, wondering when his parents and the principal were going to arrive to reprimand him.  He turned back to the computer, which was blinking out an error.  "Why me?" he asked the Cray, shaking his head.

          The machine steadfastly refused to explain.

          The hacker commanded, "Gertrude, third base."

          The motorized wheel chair carried him back so he could power-cycle the units and try again.  "Gertrude, home."

          The chair carried him back.  The elevator doors opened and Harrison stalked into the lab, pulling a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

          The sound of the boot heels caught Norton's attention, and he glanced over his shoulder, expecting the colonel to demand his still incomplete results.

          Norton raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.  "Oh, before you say it, Harrison, I had nothing to do with it," he stated flatly.

          "Good defense, Norton, deny everything," Blackwood complimented as Ironhorse rounded the corner to join them.  "But my work is done," the astrophysicist continued as the colonel glanced over Norton's shoulder at the screen.  "Say goodbye to everybody, I'm going to New York.  It's important," he concluded, slapping the paper into Drake's hands.

          "What's important is our briefing with General Wilson for the UN," Ironhorse clarified.

          "I'm not going to forget that," Harrison replied, turning to face the soldier.

          Norton scanned the page.  "You've been invited to meet Quinn."

          "Really?" the colonel questioned.  "The hermit artist."

          "Yes, Quinn himself.  Master of light.  The sculptor of celestial harmony—"

          "The phony who sells art that disappears when the lights are turned on."

          "I'll ignore that.  If Quinn approves I intend to purchase a piece of his – available only by personal invitation," Harrison explained, snatching the page from Norton's grasp.  He folded it and slipped it back into his pocket.

          "In just thirty-six hours Harrison, you, me, Suzanne have a meeting with General Wilson for the UN; in forty-eight with the UN security council in secret session to discuss the alien problem.  Now, we really need you.  Don't get lost."

          "I won't," Harrison assured.  "Until then, I leave you to the material world as I dash off in search of truth and happiness.  Goodbye," he said, bowing off to the elevator.

          Ironhorse redirected his attention to the hacker.  "Now, Norton—"

          Knowing that Ironhorse wanted the New York information, and that it simply wasn't ready, thanks to all the recent interruptions, Norton raised his hands and stated forcefully, "I had nothing to do with it – nothing."

          With a confused shrug, the colonel turned and stalked back to the stairs.

          Norton watched the system crash again.  He sighed and shook his head.  It was going to be a long night…


End file.
